


Ms. Floral Thief

by Myrhee



Category: Harvest Moon
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, F/M, Romance, Suicidal Tendencies, a dash of vices here and there, bitter and sweet, give these characters some hugs when you steal their love interests, lots of vegetables involved, mary i'm so sorry i didn't mean to steal your first love, with a hint of pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:22:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrhee/pseuds/Myrhee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're supposed to be looking for sunshine when the storm draws in, right?</p><p>Well, he didn't. Even when he found the sunshine of his dreams, he still decides to attach himself to her nights that were darker than his.</p><p>And maybe that alone was better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. more than just her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. Here's a one-shot that became a multiple chapter thing because apparently my skills have dulled.
> 
> But anyway, I've gotten bored recently and I decided to boot this old game of mine. This was the product of that melancholic feeling I got when I decided to restart the game from the very beginning. Oh, spring.
> 
> I'm not sure where this was heading off to when I started writing, but hey, I hear the best journeys are the ones on the roads not taken. 
> 
> Happy reading!

The first thing she was to him, the _very_ first thing, was the color blue-

calm.  serene. cold.

Everyone could go on and on about how her eyes but really, that wasn't the only shade of blue on her. She was so much more. And it was only his mind that fully associated that color to one person alone. He wasn't poetic a man, but he just saw things that were left unseen, and knew things that were left untold.

* * *

_seaside, on the seaside_

* * *

 

It starts at the time he stops by the old, grassy road that leads to that old, grassy farm again. His feet now have a habit. And as he paces ten steps forwards and five steps back, he can't help but think of her. 

And thinking of her ultimately pulls one voice from his mind.

_"Please, anyone, come help!"_

He remembers how his boots sunk in the sand and how his ears rung at the sound of fresh waves after a storm. An image of panic is labeled under Zack's name, and then he sees _her_ and he remembers why he felt compelled to run. Gray follows his memory to the exact moment where he caught her blurry form by the gurgling water and thinks, for the ninth time that day, of how right it felt to have her beside the sea. 

Of course, it was a stupid thought, leaving her there meant leaving her to freeze.

And when Zack screams his name, his voice fades over the white noise and Gray fidgets breathlessly in his place. He knew then that he was close to hesitating, close to giving up and turning around and just believing he wasn't the right person for that story, but then the girl tilts her head so her face was at a better angle and everything somehow pieces together like the opening chapter -a girl washed up ashore becomes the farmer of a run-down lot in the sleepy Mineral Town, of all places. Honestly, her story could've had a better start. 

But then he remembers how her hair was the gold sun and her face was the porcelain sand and never in his life did he feel so content with stealing a piece of the ocean and carrying her ashore, only to have her settle down in a farm a few heartbeats away from the smithy. He smiles listlessly at the thought.

Then the same girl decides to walk the same road and it feels like the waves have crashed right into a bunch of shore rocks, or in this case, a bunch of ores.

"O-oh...hello..." he begins, unable to fight his nervousness. He stares, then sputters, stirs, scratches his head and tips his cap over his face, and soon, embarrassment folds over in the form of a blush.

"Uh....I was just...um...taking a stroll..." 

Her stare was  _so. much. blue._ that it made him sweat profoundly, and in a sore attempt to save himself, he leaves for the smithy. 

"I h-have to go!"

Behind the door to the blacksmith's, his heart was _racing_ , oh goddess. He didn't understand why, he could never understand why and even more so could he never understand just why he had to feel so preoccupied when the old man happened to pass by. And by the time he was cast out, he was sure Saibara didn't need the furnace anymore with how hot his entire face became. 

"Get out!" the old man screams, louder than anything else he's heard from him, and inevitably, he's left to storm out with the harshest crease on his forehead. 

Then there was that undeniable shiver racking down his spine as he realizes that she was still standing there, her eyes glossy and glassy like the open spring sky. Her smile was small but it made him feel like he just made the biggest fool out of himself.

So he resists the urge to stutter and just-

"It...wasn't a good first impression!"

-runs.

And even after that, she was still the color blue. It was more than just her eyes. It was more than just her overalls. It was more than just the spring sky.

_'So cute...'_

It was the ocean that brought her to him -the deepest, richest blue he'd ever seen.

* * *

_a kitten's sweet demise_

* * *

 

But then maybe...if he took the time to turn around and notice the way those blue eyes faltered under the light, then just maybe...he'd see a different shade of blue to her, the one thing left unseen.

 


	2. toy flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember your first goddess festival...alone? 
> 
> Gray remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much frustration here as I wrote this. I don't know. I feel like I'm forcing myself to achieve something, but I didn't really get there. I'm not saying I don't like writing for this story though. I have so much plans for this that I can't simply give up.
> 
> Pretty sure I'm not the only one forcing myself to do stuff. Almost everyone in this chapter did, maybe. 
> 
> Anyway, happy reading!

* * *

He haphazardly wakes up to the callings of Spring when his grandfather comes to the inn and asks,

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for the Goddess Festival?"

* * *

_look, it's spring time_

* * *

 

Gray idly fiddles with the knot at his tie as they make their way to the square. Noticing his frustration, Mary carefully picks at the fabric and adjusts it properly, earning her a flustered smile from said blacksmith trainee. The boy shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot as he chaperons the girl by arm, and the black-haired maid offers him just the slightest of giggles, in hopes of easing his woes. 

"You're too tense today." she mumbles, toying with the flowers at her neck.

He shrugs, albeit shakily. 

"I woke up to the sound of disappointment."

She _laughs,_ but he's too tired to respond, so he lends her a patient smile, and they eventually arrive in an unsettling silence. From the corner of his eyes, Gray notes how nervous Mary seems, her eyes darting away ever so often, and thinks back on how he just-

The library door flies open.

"I need a date for the festival...!" he says, his hair a mess and his shoes full of muck.

Mary folds the pages of a book unceremoniously.

"...Um...o-okay." 

It wasn't a very romantic setting, he knew. He wasn't dressed for the part, either. But all's well that ends well, so long as the old man shuts up and doesn't waste another ten minutes of his morning with untimely life-lessons. So he breathes a sigh and mentally promises to himself, and to Mary too, that he'd make up for this eventually. 

He had barely known the young lady and now he had her attached to him by the arm in a dress. He begins to think he wasn't very good at attracting other things apart from humor and irony. And it was only his first Spring.

We're they always supposed to greet the spring time this way? He wasn't given much credit as a moderately new member of the town, then. Honestly, if he had an idea, then he might have had found the time to iron his uniform or shine his shoes or _invite a girl the proper way_. And arriving at the plaza made him feel just a bit more out of place.

There was so much going on, he thinks, there was so much color and noise and _color_ that his eyes had to adjust to all the flowers trying to fit in his limited vision. 

He casts the mayor a forced smile before unhooking his arm, shoving his coal stained hands deep into his pockets. Mary immediately bundles her fingers together and bows her head and decidedly, it's awkward. He mumbles an apology and pretends that she can hear how shameful he feels. He spins around a bit to see Mary's back and for a brief moment, he reflects on how much effort she must have put on to weave flowers into her hair, and how much courage she must have spewed to wear something less conservative. She even took off her glasses, for his sake, nonetheless. 

And Ann just decided to make it just a bit more amusing.

"Heya Gray I saw you enter the square with Mary today." she giggles and pokes his cheek, "You two were so cute, both of you were red as beets!" 

He was pretty sure he was now redder than beets. 

Ann smiles. "But...you know, taking Mary with you is a good thing. She needs to boost her self-confidence more. So...thanks."

He spares Mary a glance and nods to himself, a passing smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

"Yeah..."

Gray fails to notice how Ann had slipped away and someone else took her place.

His smile brightens. "But you know...Isn't Mary cute? She looks good in blue, but she also looks great in pi...nk..."

His voice wavers when he realizes that the orange was now gone and he was now seeing so much yellow and blue and oh goddess -He feels his heart sink and suddenly, all he could see was blue, a striking blue that looked back at him sadly, eyes downcast. The farmer girl stands solemnly at a good distance away from him. Her lips don't move but he knew, desperately he knew, she wanted to say something.

But she avoids his gaze and turns her heel away from him and he has this insatiable urge to call out, but then his hands fall in disappointment, realizing that he never really got her name after the first time they said _'hello'_.

Yet she was beautiful, very. He didn't know where she found the dress but damn..she was beautiful. So he tips his cap and watches her indiscreetly.

Her dress flutters at her feet as she walks, almost like ripples. The flowers in her hair were not as bright and cheerful as the others at the festival. There was something incredibly depressing about the way their stems were bent, almost forcibly, but they wound around her head like a crown and he preferred not to look so deeply into it. 

Then the girl dances. She dances with the wind in her hair and the sky in her eyes and he was so sure that the ocean was dancing all the same. But there was no smile. There was a fragment of it, but she looked completely forlorn in the brightness of spring. So he keeps watching her, hoping she'll find the season in her as the dance goes on but with each turn, he only begins to doubt himself more.

How can something so beautiful look so forced?

* * *

  _let's go steal some flowers_

* * *

It's only after she leaves does he notice that she never came with anyone.

He bows his head so Mary couldn't see his deepening shame.


End file.
